


Nothing So Debased

by cytheriafalas



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fuck Or Die, I'm deeply embarrassed to have written this, Literally it, M/M, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytheriafalas/pseuds/cytheriafalas
Summary: Set sometime during the earlier parts of the video game, our four heroes are kidnapped and in order to save Ignis and Prompto's lives, Gladiolus and Noctis have to have sex.





	Nothing So Debased

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this is literally just fuck or die. I'm so embarrassed to have written this that I've only told one person, and I'm not even linking to this story on my tumblr. But... here you go? I'm going to go... away. And think about what I've done.

Gladiolus stood in front of Noctis, one arm out to keep the prince behind him. Noct’s fingertips rested in the middle of Gladiolus’s back so Gladiolus knew where Noctis was at all times like he’d been taught to do. The prince was brash and sometimes childish, but he knew what to do when is life was in Gladiolus’s hands.

The room they stood in was empty except for a metal door with a small opening in the bottom—too small to be of any use. There were windows high, high up above them, probably with a view of the whole room, but he couldn’t see through them, and even if he had been able to get Noct up high enough to reach them, there wasn’t anything for him to grab onto. And as much faith as Gladiolus had in Noctus, it wasn’t as though he could punch through the windows.

Ignis and Prompto were missing, and Gladiolus had no idea if they were alive or dead. He had to hope they were alive. If he and Noctis were still alive, maybe the other two were.

But he’d just woken up with no memory of how he’d ended up here. He hadn’t had a chance to confer with Noctis. The prince had been curled next to him when he woke. He’d shaken Noctis in a panic, desperate to know if he’d failed in protecting his charge. But Noct had stirred, stood when Gladiolus urged him up, and now there was nothing but the cold stone floor beneath his bare feet. They’d taken all their weapons and shoes.

“Gladio?” Noct asked. His voice was quiet. “Where are we?”

“Don’t know. I don’t remember anything.”

“Me either. Prompto or Ignis?”

Gladiolus shook his head. He was about to tell Noctis that the four of them were probably being kept alive for something, but lights flared to life before he could speak, temporarily blinding him even when he threw his arm up to block the light, and a voice boomed out of speakers. Noctis grabbed a fistful of Gladiolus’s shirt, but at least he stayed where he was.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum!” With his eyes gradually adjusting to the glare, Gladiolus could see shadows in one of the windows, but there wasn’t enough detail to identify them. “Get out from behind your Shield.”

“Noct—”

Noctis’s hand squeezed reassuringly on Gladiolus’s wrist and he stepped forward. His chin was held high and he looked up at the window imperiously. “What do you want?”

“What would you do to save your friends’ lives?”

“What?”

Lights behind the second set of windows sprang on, and now they could both see Ignis and Prompto tied to some sort of rack or pole—something that held their bodies upright and their arms out to their sides. They were awake; at least, Ignis was, speaking rapidly to Prompto. Prompto’s eyes fluttered and Gladiolus could practically feel him struggling to return to consciousness. His head lolled forward, then back.

“Prompto!” Noctis called, but neither man so much as glanced their way.

“They can’t hear or see you,” the voice said, still lost in the shadows. Gladiolus thought he could tell which of the shadows he was, for all the good that did him. “You never answered me.”

“Damn you,” Noctis snarled, and he was practically shaking with rage. “I won’t do anything to hurt Lucis or its people.”

An affronted gasp echoed through the room. “My dear prince, we ask you to do nothing so… debased. And you, Shield, what would you do to protect your friends?”

“My duty is to my prince.” A cowardly answer? Maybe. One that kept Gladiolus from having to say that if it was between leaving Ignis and Prompto to their deaths, as painful as they may be, and getting Noctis out safely, he would leave the other two behind without a second thought.

Noctis would never forgive him, but his job was to keep Noctis alive, not happy, no matter how much Noctis’s hatred and the loss of their friends would have flayed his soul to pieces.

“Would you trade one life for another?” the voice asked.

Noctis glanced back over his shoulder at Gladiolus. Gladiolus returned the look in silence. He’d do whatever it took to get Noctis out safe, even at the cost of his own life.

“Don’t worry. We’re not asking anything so atrocious. You, Shield, you’ll do anything to keep your princeling alive?”

“Yes.”

“And you, princeling, you’ll do anything—other than hurting your precious Lucis—to keep your friends alive?”

Noctis swallowed, then brought his eyes back up to the shadowed window. “Yes.”

“To show you both how serious we are…”

The room that held Ignis and Prompto began to slowly fill with a greenish gas and after a few breaths, first Prompto and then Ignis began coughing. Ignis tried to pull free, but to no avail. He said something to Prompto, but the gas had already taken hold of the much smaller man, and Gladiolus could see the fear in his wide eyes as he gasped for air that either wasn’t there or was killing him.

“Stop!” Noctis shouted. “Stop, please. We’ll do it, whatever it is.”

Gladiolus heard a roaring sound that had to have been massive fans, because the greenish gas swirled upward and both men started breathing raggedly but more regularly.

“Good. I’m glad we all agree. You, Shield, will fuck your princeling until you both have orgasmed.”

Gladiolus reeled back. He’d expected many things, but not this. And the way he’d said it sent shudders of horror down Gladiolus’s spine. It was both too familiar and too clinical. In front of him, Noctis’s shoulders straightened, his chin rising again.

“Noctis—”

Noctis held up a hand, silencing him. “How I can know you’ll keep your word?”

“You can’t,” the voice said. “But you can trust that I will kill them if you don’t obey. It’s a very simple request.”

Noctis turned to face Gladiolus. His gaze was steady, and if he felt anything other than determination to save Prompto and Ignis, he didn’t show it. “Gladio?”

“I…” His mouth was dry. He loved Noctis as fiercely as a brother, loved him enough to do whatever he asked, but this was too far. He couldn’t ask this of Noctis, not even for the lives of their friends. “I’ll do whatever you want, Noct.” He lowered his voice. “We can get out. We can get them out.”

“Alive?” When Gladiolus hesitated, Noct put his hand on Gladiolus’s forearm. “I trust you, Gladio. We can never speak of this again, if that will help. Or we can. But unless you have some great plan to get them out…”

And Noctis was looking at Gladiolus like he’d wait an eternity for Gladiolus to make up his mind, but they didn’t have an eternity. It was surprising that they’d been given this much time as it was. Gladiolus nodded.

“I’m not going to fuck him on the floor,” Gladiolus said, raising his voice just a little and trying not to taste the word _fuck_ in his mouth. But if they were going to call it that, so was he. He wasn’t going to give them the win of using some euphemism or nothing at all.

The tiny door at the base of the larger door opened and a blue roll was thrown into the room, then the door clanged shut again. Gladiolus gestured for Noctis to stay where he was and crossed carefully to it, expecting it to explode or transform into some monster for them to fight. It did neither of those things.

The fabric was soft and thick when he closed his hand on it. He carried it back toward Noctis and knelt to unroll it. There was a bottle in the middle of it with some kind of thick liquid inside. A lubricant, Gladiolus assumed, and did his damnedest to not fling it at the window in a rage. He’d half hoped that this was some sort of spur-of-the-moment scheme, but it appeared they’d been planning for this. Expecting it.

He would do what had to be done to protect Noctis, and if that meant… _this_ … then he would do it. He would get his prince out alive, even if it cost him Noctis’s trust and everything else.

“Well, princeling?” the voice said once Gladiolus laid out the blanket and straightened. “Best make sure your Shield is _up_ to the job, so to speak. The faster you both get this done, the sooner the four of you will be on your way.”

“I trust you,” Noctis repeated, locking eyes with Gladiolus. He skimmed his hands across Gladiolus’s shoulders, catching the fabric of his vest and easing it down his arms and onto the floor. The room wasn’t cold, exactly, but goosebumps spread across Gladiolus’s skin.

Then Noctis knelt, slowly, and Gladiolus could see the flash of pain on his face as his knee hurt him when he went down, but he settled himself down in as comfortable a position as he could manage, and tugged his shirt over his head. It landed in a heap off to one side. He reached for Gladiolus’s belt buckle and began working it free.

Gladiolus caught his wrist, drawing Noctis’s eyes up to his. He spoke quietly, “Your highness—”

“Don’t do that now,” Noctis said, and his voice was a little rough, but he matched Gladiolus’s volume. “I need my friend here with me.”

It was more honesty than Gladiolus had expected, and he nodded. “Noct, it’s going to be okay.”

“I trust you,” Noctis said for the third time. Then he finished unhooking the belt and set about undoing the button and zippers on Gladiolus’s pants.

Noctis worked the rest of Gladiolus’s clothes off, helping him to step out of his pants and setting them aside with more care than his own shirt. He swallowed once, then reached out to run his fingers along Gladiolus’s cock.

Gladiolus hissed in surprise and Noctis pulled back. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s cold in here,” Gladiolus said. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

Noctis rubbed his hands together briefly, trying to chafe some warmth into them, then reached for him again. It hadn’t made much of a difference, if any, but Gladiolus was prepared this time. Noctis’s palms were calloused with a lifetime of swordwork, both the same as and different than Gladiolus’s own hand.

The bottle of lubricant was laying by Noctis’s knee, and Gladiolus had expected him to reach for that. Instead, he kept one hand on Gladiolus’s cock, steadied himself with one hand on Gladiolus’s thigh, and ran his tongue along the bottom of Gladiolus’s cock.

Gladiolus made what he hoped was the quiet sound of his breath all leaving his body at once. It wasn’t that he had _never_ entertained the thought of Noctis touching him like this—they spent so much time together it was almost impossible to not have the thought once in a while—but he’d never expected it to happen. He was only a Shield, after all, and not Noctis’s equal in anything.

Emboldened, maybe, by Gladiolus’s reaction, Noctis took the head of Gladiolus’s cock in his mouth. He wasn’t ready for the feeling of Noctis’s tongue flicking across his skin, but he’d gotten more control of himself and kept silent. Gradually, Noctis took more of him into his mouth until he’d managed most of it, and began bobbing his head and sucking.

He’d never done this before—or if he had it wasn’t frequent—Gladiolus could tell, but Noctis was nothing if not dedicated to whatever he set his mind to. He read Gladiolus’s body like a battlefield, finding that when he moved his tongue this way, Gladiolus’s breath came faster or that when he took him just a little deeper than normal, Gladiolus’s hands (which had somehow fallen to Noctis’s shoulders) would tighten.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been enough to get Gladiolus hard, if not quite enough to get him off, but he couldn’t forget that this was Noctis—his prince, his charge—kneeling at his feet with secretive shadows watching them above. Eventually, though, the feeling welled up enough that he was breathing hard and clutching at Noctis’s shoulders. With one final, hard, suck that nearly buckled Gladiolus’s knees, Noctis pulled off.

“Ready?” Noctis asked. His voice was a little raw, but it wasn’t shaking anymore. Gladiolus nodded, not quite trusting his voice. This, Noctis kneeling at his feet, head tipped up and lips parted, was a vision. Gladiolus had never been a man who wanted to see any of his lovers kneeling at his feet. But now he could understand why some people did. At least until Noctis shifted and winced, one hand rubbing at the ache in his knee.

Then Gladiolus knelt beside him. “Which way do you want to face, Noct?”

Notcis swallowed. “You. Let me see you.”

Gladiolus helped Noctis straighten his leg and ran a hand along the muscle just above and below his knee to ease any pain. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done a dozen times, a hundred times, on the road when he saw his prince struggling with his leg, and Noctis gave him a grateful smile. He undid the belt and unbuttoned Noctis’s pants, then eased him out of the rest of his clothes. They’d all seen one another in various states of undress—bandaging wounds, dressing for the day, bathing. Living as they did in the wilds, privacy soon became a small concern. It wasn’t unusual to see Noctis’s skin, but this somehow seemed different.

Noctis lay back, his eyes locked on Gladiolus as he reached for the lubricant. It had been a long time since Gladiolus had done this part.

“This doesn’t hurt if you do it right,” he promised, warming the bottle between his hands and making sure he had plenty on his fingers. “Relax for me. I’ll make it feel as good for you as I can.”

It was his turn, now, to learn how to bring as much pleasure as he could. He began slowly, just his fingertip pressed against Noctis’s entrance, not pushing in, but waiting, rubbing his palm along the smooth inside of Noctis’s thigh. Waiting until Noctis’s body gave in to the gentle pressure and his finger sank into him with almost no resistance. Noctis made a sound, not quite distress.

“You okay, Noct?”

“Mmhm. It’s just weird.”

“Tell me if it hurts.”

Noctis pressed his lips together and nodded. Gladiolus began working his finger in and out, applying pressure to try to get his prince to relax. He did, slowly, and Gladiolus added his middle finger.

Then Noctis did cry out, but his back arched in a way that didn’t look quite like pain. Gladiolus ran his free hand along Noctis’s hip and leaned in to kiss the soft skin on the inside of his thigh. He didn’t know if Noctis would appreciate the gesture, but if he was going to have to “fuck his princeling until he orgasmed” he was going to do what he could to make the entire process as enjoyable as possible.

It seemed like he did, because Noctis reached and cupped Gladiolus’s face, his thumb brushing across the scar and his fingers twisting into his hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, Gladiolus began the real process of stretching Noctis open.

One of Gladiolus’s former girlfriends had once described him as “proportional” the first time they’d had sex, and that meant extra preparation time, especially since Noctis was not particularly inclined to be relaxed right now, the way he would have been if this was something they were undertaking in the privacy of… well, they didn’t have a lot of privacy on the road, but in privacy.

So he took that extra time, adding his ring finger once he thought Noctis was ready for it. Noctis’s back arched again, and he was half hard by the time Gladiolus thought it was time to move on and eased his fingers out, wiping them on the edge of the blanket.

“Noct?”

Noctis nodded. “I trust you.”

Those words kept breaking him, just a little. If he’d been worthy of this level of trust, they never would have ended up in this situation.

Noctis watched him reach for the lubrication again, watched him pour the oil onto his palm, watched him wrap his hand around his cock, watched him spread the oil over his skin and work himself back up to full hardness.

“Tell me if I hurt you, Noct.”

A silent nod.

Gladiolus let out a sharp breath, glancing up at the shadows in the window again. Only one had moved, crossing his arms and moving closer to the window. To get a better look, presumably. Gladiolus turned his attention back to Noctis. If he had to do this, he was going to do it well.

He pressed the head of his cock against Noctis’s entrance. He’d stretched him well enough that there was only the slightest resistance as he eased in. The pleasure washed over his body in wave after wave of shudders, and he made a great effort to hold himself there without moving, both to give Noctis time adjust and to give himself a moment to make sure he was in control. He hadn’t expected to actually want this, and he was willing to blame it on his body’s natural responses. Willing to blame it, but also worried about what this would mean for them—for him.

“C’mon, Gladio,” Noctis said, running a hand from Gladiolus’s hip to his ribs and digging his fingers in. “Go.”

He did, sinking in the rest of the way, earning a sharp gasp from Noctis. Noctis clenched tight around him, hitching a leg up over Gladiolus’s hip. The movement brought another breathless gasp.

Gladiolus swore quietly under his breath. He was almost too tight, too hot. For as often as he complained about being cold, Noctis’s body burned with a warmth that seemed designed to tear Gladiolus apart. And part of Gladiolus wanted to drag that sensation out as long as he could, to let Noctis tear him apart and put him back together, but the rational part of him—the part of him that remembered he was fucking his prince on the floor of a prison cell for their friends lives—urged him forward.

He pulled back, then pushed forward again and Noctis’s head rolled back. Without thinking, Gladiolus leaned forward as he moved, pressing kisses to the long column of Noctis’s neck, tasting his sweat beneath his tongue. Noctis’s hands tangled in Gladiolus’s hair, little sparks of pain that sent matching shimmers of pleasure down Gladiolus’s spine. He must have made a pleased noise, because Noctis’s fingers tightened more.

Noctis was whispering his name in between praises, and Gladiolus could feel the heat of Noctis’s cock between their bodies. He was rolling his hips in time with Gladiolus’s thrusts, sweat pricking on his skin. Gladiolus tasted it again this time along his collar bones and under his jaw.

“You close, Noct?”

Noctis nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. Gladiolus braced himself on one arm above Noctis’s shoulder and reached between them to wrap his hand around Noctis’s cock. The younger man cried out, body arching off the blanket. They both came not long after that, almost together, Gladiolus tipping over the precipice just a few rapid heartbeats before Noctis’s cock pulsed in his hand and he spilled over their stomachs. Gladiolus stroked him through it, letting go when Noctis’s face twisted with too much sensation, and then eased himself out.

He used the edges of the blanket to clean them both up as best he could, then glared up at the shadow in the window. It had retreated back a little ways, and before Gladiolus could even think do anything, a faint white gas began filling their room and the room upstairs.

He was unconscious before he had time to warn Noctis to hold his breath.

 

The sound of birds singing woke Gladiolus, and for a moment he thought he’d had a truly horrific dream, but the sound of Prompto and Ignis talking quietly and worriedly dashed those hopes.

“They’ve both been out for more than a day now,” Prompto was saying. “Shouldn’t we try something? A potion?”

For a moment the only other thing Gladiolus could hear was the sound of pots and pans moving. “Let them rest. It’s better they have some time before they find out.”

“It can’t make a difference, can it?”

Gladiolus had been dressed at some point, whether by Ignis or the people who’d held them captive he didn’t know. Noctis slept next to him, face smooth and untroubled by what had just happened. And, reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept, Gladiolus didn’t want to wake him.

So he stood, eschewing putting on his shoes, and stepped out of the tent onto stone warmed by mid-morning sun. Ignis and Prompto spun to face him. Ignis’s face was guarded. The last time Gladiolus had seen him like that was when he’d had to tell Noctis his father was dead. Prompto, at least, looked glad, but then his face went tight with wariness as well.

“Find out what?”

Ignis turned and grabbed something from the table beside the fire. He passed it over silently.

A newspaper, and when Gladiolus unfolded it, two full-color photos took up the majority of the front page. One, Noctis kneeling in front of Gladiolus. It had been censored to be suitably appropriate for most audiences, but it was clear enough what was happening. The second one, Gladiolus from the waist up, one of Noctis’s legs just visible, was more damning. It had been taken near the end, when he’d been supporting himself on one hand. Noctis’s hand was tangled in Gladiolus’s hair.

Gladiolus made to throw it into the fire, but Prompto grabbed it from him before he could.

“Noct deserves to know.”

Gladiolus twisted his lips, walked to the edge of the haven, and vomited up nothing but bile. Ignis crouched next to him, one hand steady on his shoulder.

“You saved our lives, Gladio.”

Gladiolus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Does that make it any better?”

“No, but it makes it something you can bear. Something you have to bear. For him.”

“Leave me alone, Ignis.”

Ignis’s fingers tightened briefly, but he stood up, returning to the fire. He and Prompto left Gladiolus to his thoughts for the better part of half an hour until the sound of stirring from the tent brought the three of them to their feet. Every muscle in Gladiolus’s body went tight with a combination of his desire to make sure Noctis was okay and the knowledge that Noctis would never want to see him again.

Prompto went to him in the end, ducking inside the tent with the newspaper in his hands. Gladiolus couldn’t hear what they were saying, and if Ignis could, he kept his head down and focused on his work.

Finally, after two eternities had passed, he heard Noctis’s voice—princely, imperious—raised enough for Gladiolus to hear clearly. “Where is he?”

A second later, Prompto’s head popped out of the tent and he gestured for Gladiolus to come forward. Once Gladiolus’s legs had begun to work again, Prompto grabbed Ignis by the wrist and began tugging him farther away from the tent.

After rescuing from the fire whatever he’d been cooking, Ignis followed, and Gladiolus had no choice but to go inside the tent.

Noctis was sitting with the newspaper on his knees, his face in his hands.

“Your highness—”

“What did I say about that?” Noctis asked, raising his head. He sounded weary.

“Noctis.”

“How far has this spread?”

“I only woke up before you. I don’t know. But if it’s front page… Noct, I’m sorry.”

“We did what we had to do, and I should have realized they wanted something other than their own perverted show.” Noctis balled the newspaper up and threw it toward the door. It fluttered just out of reach, the pictures obscured by shadow. He rubbed at his face. “Damage control, then. Luna will understand, but the rest of the people…” He made a disgusted sound. “Let’s go.”

They packed up in silence. Even Prompto didn’t try to raise anyone’s spirits. They all could have used it, but Gladiolus figured they were all far beyond what even Prompto could do for them.

The car was just where they’d left it, untouched. Ignis and Prompto climbed into the front seat. Gladiolus slid into the back next to Noctis. He’d resigned himself to a long, awkward drive, and settled in, watching the scenery pass them by without seeing it. After a few minutes, warm fingers closed around his.


End file.
